


Beginnings

by slashedsilver



Category: Sungkyunkwan Scandal
Genre: First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 11:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashedsilver/pseuds/slashedsilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That punk... is Goo Yong Ha. For the past ten years, he’s been following me around like a shadow.” – Moon Jae Shin. This is how it all began.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shati/gifts).



> Dear shati, just reading your Yuletide letter with all your excited squee made me shiver with delight at being matched with a participant who evidently loves Sungkyunkwan Scandal as much as I do. I started with grand ideas of making one with perfectly epic subterfuge and political machinations, but it wanted to become a novel, which I would never finish on time. So I decided to go simple instead, with one of your ideas -- how Yong Ha and Jae Shin could have met. Happy holidays!

The first time Goo Yong Ha met Moon Jae Shin, he was following his father on a visit to the minister’s residence. His father had Important Business to see to; Yong Ha was just excited about being out of the house.

“Do not disgrace me,” his father warned him grimly. His timing was impeccable as always -- Yong Ha was about to bubble over with exuberance at the pretty yellow _dopo_ his servant had picked out for him to wear. It really was a lovely yellow, Yong Ha reflected mournfully, almost as bright as the light the sun cast that morning. It was too bad he couldn’t twirl around in it, even just a little bit.

With self-control that would have impressed the sternest man, Yong Ha tamped down on his excitement, and schooled his demeanour into something resembling restrained and controlled. He dipped his head respectfully at his father, and he hurried to match his sweeping strides. “Yes, of course, Father.” 

It was the first time his father was bringing him out with him on his business meetings, ostensibly to show him to the people who mattered, as an asset to his father. A well-mannered, respectful son reflected well on the father who had brought him up. It would be the first test of all the lessons and learning Yong Ha had undergone. After their family had made _yangban_ , thanks to their newly minted economic clout, there was a sudden rush to ensure that their only son was sufficiently educated in the classics and history. Yong Ha could still pinpoint the exact moment his life ended –- that fateful morning when his teacher had brought in piles and piles of dusty old books, and told him he had to memorise them all by the time he attended classes with the rest of the nobles’ sons.

Yong Ha had gaped at him, aghast, as his teacher firmly spoke over his protest, “They must not able to tell the difference between someone born _yangban_ , and you, a merchant’s son. After all, it will be your duty to establish the family standing with a public office.”

“They will know that I haven’t grown up alongside them,” Yong Ha had pointed out, astute beyond his nine years.

“Your father will have his ways,” his teacher had replied, maddeningly elusive. “You must only apply yourself to your studies.”

And so, bidding a tearful farewell to the outside world and to actual human living, Yong Ha had. Just until he made it into one of the universities, Sungkyunkwan maybe, away from his father’s oppressive thumb. As long as his teacher could tolerate his occasional urges to get up and stretch or spin or do whatever it took to get his body to wake up again.

But even he, Goo Yong Ha, had his limit. Thoroughly bored with the endless volumes of Confucius that formed his daily studies, Yong Ha was determined that this trip wouldn’t be his last. Reciting his teacher’s favourite passage from the Book of Proper Conduct to himself, Yong Ha happily mounted the carriage behind his father. He just managed to enter without overly much of a scramble, _and_ without tripping over the hem of his _hanbok_ , too. His father bestowed a long-suffering look on him, which Yong Ha took in his stride. 

He beamed to himself. All in all, it looked like it was gearing up to be a great day.

~*~

“And so, if we purchase twenty bolts of cloth at three hundred copper coins…”

Yong Ha stifled a yawn. No, it was impossible. How could he not have anticipated this? The excruciating pain of sitting absolutely still, maintaining a pleasantly thoughtful expression at what the elders were discussing. He couldn’t even stretch his legs, or flop out and lie back as he did during his lessons at home, when he was tired of sitting upright.

Yong Ha mournfully realised that he could no longer feel his toes, where they were still tucked carefully under him. He wondered if it was possible for a person to die from freezing in a single position for too long. Perhaps muscles seized up and forgot how to move -- 

“…may interest you in some delicacies recently acquired from -- " 

Yong Ha’s ears perked up. Could it be? A chance for escape?

As the elders got to their feet, Yong Ha clambered to his as well. He barely noticed as his entire right leg went numb, focusing on trying to find the appropriate moment to inch towards his father and make his excuses. 

As the rest of the entourage started to leave the room, he reached his father and whispered something about having a bad stomach ache. “However, please do not worry, I will approach the servants for directions and find my way there on my own.”

Yong Ha caught the look of disapproval on his father’s face, and took the chance to bow respectfully and flee before his father could make a fuss about it. After his excellent behaviour that morning, Yong Ha figured he'd earned at least a _si_ or two on his own. As long as he didn't get into _too_ much mischief... 

Rounding the corner, and peeking back to make sure the procession was slowly but steadily heading in the opposite direction, Yong Ha breathed a sigh of relief and allowed himself to relax for the first time in ages. He did some quick calculations and figured that he probably had about one _si_ before his father got tired of his absence and sent guards to look for him. That would be plenty of time to explore the compound.

With no one to watch him, Yong Ha smiled the secret smile which struck terror into the hearts of his servants. It was Goo Yong Ha time!

Setting off, Yong Ha wound his way into the gardens, appreciating the vastness of the premises. The minister’s residence truly was awesome. Huge and sprawling, with no end of trees and tens of small pavilions and little ponds. It would be hard to be bored here. Truly it was a wonderfully grand place, with an air of having been passed through many generations, regal and ancient. Yong Ha slid a hand across one of the stone benches as he passed. It certainly made a difference to be born into nobility. 

The minister apparently had a son about Yong Ha’s age, though he spoke about him disapprovingly, a spoilt and unruly boy. He hadn’t even there to greet Yong Ha and his father, when they’d arrived. His older brother had made apologies in his stead.

“I don’t blame you,” Yong Ha informed the missing boy. “With a house like this, I’d try my best to get lost at every opportunity too.”

Yong Ha’s steps slowed and paused, and he looked around speculatively. How big was this place, anyway? Perhaps… he could climb a tree to find out. He’d never climbed one before, but -- how difficult could it possibly be?

“All it really takes,” he announced with a flourish, and the reassuring confidence of the ignorant, “is the right tree.”

Peering around to make sure none of the servants saw him veering dangerously off the gravel path, Yong Ha took a turn into an area where the trees seemed to grow more thickly and closely together. It wouldn’t do for his father to catch him climbing trees when he was supposed to be gravely indisposed with a stomach upset in the latrine.

Yong Ha surveyed the trees in a slightly more secluded spot, and finally picked a particularly sturdy-looking one, which looked somewhat worthy of being climbed by one Goo Yong Ha. Sweeping his sleeves up grandly, he reached up to grasp the lower branches of the tree, and tried to heave himself up.

"What are you doing?" The voice was threatening, and the suddenness of it made Yong Ha wobble in his foothold. "This is _my_ tree."

Yong Ha paused momentarily in his attempts to scale the tree, and squinted up into the branches of the tree, where the voice seemed to have issued from. Against the light, he could make out the rough form of a general black lump, which, if one looked closely, could possibly form the shape of a scruffy-looking boy.

He released the bough, and dusted his hands off imperiously. "My teacher says it's important to learn how to share," Yong Ha said. "And I want to share it."

There was a moment of silence, and then the boy snorted. “If you can make it up here, you can have it. Not that someone like you even looks like he knows how to climb, though.”

If there was one thing Yong Ha hated the most, it was being laughed at. A deep, quiet part of him was where he hid the fear – of being made fun of for not truly being _yangban_ , for not being able to run as fast as the other boys his age, for still not being good at horseback riding or archery, despite the intensive practice he’d be getting.

He felt himself filling with anger instead. He would prove them all wrong.

Yong Ha reached up again and grasped the branch firmly. This time, he heaved himself onto the first bough, his feet scuttling for a foothold against the trunk. He almost toppled, and the fright shocked him into hugging the bough with all his might. Catching his balance, Yong Ha steadied himself, and then pulled himself up all the way -- onto the first level!

In triumph, Yong Ha chanced a glance at the boy, but he was simply watching dispassionately from his perch in the tree. Yong Ha scowled in retaliation, and decided to go with the best policy of ignoring him. With growing confidence from having conquered the first bough, Yong Ha stabilised himself, and reached for the next.

And then Yong Ha made a misstep, put his foot where there was no foothold. There was a sickening moment where it felt like his stomach was dropping out from under him. All he could do was grasp futilely at the trunk as he slipped downwards, his hands scraping on the bark. His chin bumped hard on the side of the trunk, and when he landed in a heap on the ground, he blinked dazedly for a while before struggling to get up and catalogue the damage done.

Yong Ha looked at the scratches on his hands with dismay. One of the cuts on his right hand was particularly deep, and he watched in horror as it started to bleed. To his mortification, he could feel tears starting to well up in his eyes. How would he ever explain all this away? 

"Hey, don't -- give me your hand."

The boy had nimbly slithered down the tree, and made as if to reach out for his hand. Yong Ha immediately flinched away, cradling his wounded hand protectively to his chest.

“I don’t need you to make fun of me!” he snapped.

“I’m not -- look, I’m sorry, just let me see it.”

Yong Ha shook his head adamantly.

The boy hesitated as Yong Ha made a particularly large sniffle, and his voice gentled, like he was talking to a skittish horse. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. I used to get that all the time, especially when I’d just started climbing these trees. Father doesn’t think it’s appropriate. Especially not when there are visitors. But I do it to get away from them.”

His voice was soothing, and Yong Ha was distracted enough to stop crying. The boy pulled out a handkerchief from his clothes, and continued talking, even as he carefully reached for the hand Yong Ha refused to give him earlier. Yong Ha allowed him to gently brush off the dirt surrounding the cut.

“There was this time I picked a tree overlooking one of our ponds. And it was one of the summer afternoons, and it was warm and comfortable where I was sitting, watching the carp just swim around. You know how it can be really hypnotic sometimes?”

Yong Ha didn’t, but he nodded anyway. The boy started to expertly wind the handkerchief around his hand. “Well, without knowing it,” he continued, “I’d fallen asleep. The next thing I knew, splash! I’d tumbled into the pond. You should have seen it, I think I must have frightened a few fish to death.”

Yong Ha laughed despite himself, and the boy cracked a smile as well. He finished tying the handkerchief neatly over the cut, and released Yong Ha’s hand.

“I’m Goo Yong Ha,” he said, figuring that tough times brought men together.

“I’m Moon Jae Shin.”

“Minister Moon’s son?” he blurted out, and then regretted it because the boy’s face shut down.

“Are you going to treat me funny because of it?” Jae Shin demanded, in true obnoxious fashion.

“Of course not,” he lied.

“Good,” Jae Shin said. “Or I would let you go home in your torn _hanbok_.”

“You’re awfully vindictive,” Yong Ha said. He looked down at his _hanbok_ in dismay. He hadn’t even noticed it was torn.

“But I won’t,” Jae Shin said hurriedly. “Come on, let’s go see my _hyung_. He’ll have a way.”

Jae Shin’s older brother was kind and comforting. He didn’t seem at all surprised that his brother was bringing along someone who looked like he literally fell out of a tree. Which he had.

“Come on, let’s sort you out.”

Sending for the servants, who were warned with discretion, Yong Ha was outfitted in a new yellow affair that almost rivalled his previous. His wounds were washed, though Jae Shin’s handkerchief had to be removed so that it didn’t draw unnecessary attention. The sleeves of the _dopo_ fell just neatly over his hands when he dropped them down. His father, as unobservant about clothes as Yong Ha was meticulous, would never notice.

There was nothing they could do for the scrape on his chin, though.

Yong Ha, quick on his feet as ever, hesitated and then asked, “Could I borrow a fan?”

~*~

Afterwards, Jae Shin and Young Shin were both there to send him off.

“It seems that your son has made fast friends with my own sons,” Minister Moon said, with what sounded like a sinister chuckle to Yong Ha. “I’ve never seen Jae Shin so thoughtful to send his guests off before.”

His father made some vaguely disparaging noises and remarks about how his son was not worthy of such friendship, which Yong Ha mostly tuned out as he continued to make eyes at his two new friends, from behind his fan. Young Shin smiled indulgently, while Jae Shin rolled his own eyes.

They made their farewells, and turned towards the carriage. His father’s eyes lighted on Yong Ha’s face, or the half of Yong Ha’s face that was present from behind the fan, and asked, “Where did you get that fan from?”

“Jae Shin gifted it to me,” Yong Ha said, lowering his eyes respectfully, because he could not lower his fan. It was busy shielding his chin from the rest of the world. “It is a mark of our friendship.”

His father made a disapproving exclamation. Yong Ha shifted slightly to the side to allow him to walk ahead towards the carriage first. “Did you give him anything in return?” 

“I promised to return with an ink painting of my own.”

His father’s footsteps paused momentarily before continuing forward. “I suppose you will have to honour that promise, then.”

Yong Ha forgot to breathe for a moment. “If it would please you to allow me to accompany you once more,” he said carefully.

His father got into the carriage, and turned to regard Yong Ha as he boarded behind him. “I suppose I must. You have performed exceedingly well today.”

The feeling of rightness bubbled up within him again. He’d known it would be a great day. He just hadn’t known how great.

“It seems to have been a fruitful day for you,” his father said, without the slightest suspicion.

Yong Ha turned briefly to look at the retreating forms of the first two friends he had made, and smiled as he settled in his seat. “Yes, I think it has.”


End file.
